


calling from the other side of a fire door

by lonelyghosts



Category: Homestuck, The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, The Owl House AU, also me: But What If I Focused On Jade & Jane Though., inspired by rads EXCELLENT art, me looking at rads art: hm yes theres plenty of funneyhood potential here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyghosts/pseuds/lonelyghosts
Summary: Jane meant it, and that might be the worst part.
Relationships: Jane Crocker & Jade Harley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	calling from the other side of a fire door

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tomatograter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomatograter/gifts).



> this is inspired by rads @tomatograter's EXCELLENT [the owl house AU](https://twitter.com/tomatograter/status/1301019711958913024) which caught my heart IMMEDIATELY and refused to let go. i just kept thinking about lilith & eda and jane & jade parallel dynamics and i could not stop. rads thank you so much for letting me play in this universe it has been an HONOR.
> 
> the title is in reference to yves olade's 'translation: an introduction'. as always, i write jane as being a gnc nonbinary butch lesbian; she hasn't figured herself out yet in this story, but she'll eventually end up using he/she pronouns. fun tidbit.

Here's the thing: she meant it, and that's the worst part.

She can't tell herself she didn't. She can't deny the way her fifteen-year-old chest burned and ached with a want that writhed and choked. She can't undo the way she approached the stall in the black market with her hood pulled over her face. She cannot call the money slipped discreetly over the counter an accident, not when she turned away with a scroll buried in her pocket. Not when she stood over Jade's bed and said the words without more than a moment of hesitation. She can't call it an accident, and that might be the worst part.

Her whole life Jade was better in every way. Strong and unyielding where Jane's flesh was soft and pliable. Smart and witty where Jane stumbled over her words and relied on rote memorization just to get by. Bright and kind and unapologetic where Jane was clumsy and dull and useless and always making a mess.

Jane wanted so much to be the better of them for once. To be golden, shining, the way that Jade always was. For a day, for a moment, for a second. If they just saw her for a second, really saw  _ her  _ and not Jade's timid shadow-

It was only supposed to be a day. 

(She still doesn't know why it wasn't. She read the spell over and over again afterwards, trying to find a countercurse or a way that it had gone wrong so that she could reverse engineer it, but every part of that spell indicated it was only supposed to be temporary. Any error had been her own, and that- that hurts, to know that the blame is all on her.)

She'd stood on that Grudgby pitch and stared in astonishment as her sister announced that she wouldn't do it, she wouldn't hurt her sister, and in that moment Jane had felt like the worst person on the Boiling Isles. She had wanted glory, she had wanted power, she had wanted to be part of the Empress's coven, and Jade had given it to her as easy as breathing. 

Even in this Jade was better than her. It wasn't enough that she was smarter and more powerful and more creative and stronger than Jane- she had to be kinder, too. Jane had everything she'd wanted now, and yet she still felt more empty and hollow than she ever had in her shining sister's wake.

And then Jade started screaming.

In the aftermath, she had made promises, told Jade she'd look for a cure, had sworn that she would find a countercurse. But every moment spent in her presence hurt. Jane looked at the once-emerald gem on her sister's chest that now bubbled with black and thought:  _ I did this to you, and you don't even know.  _

It had been easy, in the end, to accept the offer that Empress Peixes put before her. Jade was still an unbound witch- there were many marks on her skin but none of them were a coven's. If she was caught, the Empress assured her, then she'd cut Jade some slack; a cure in exchange for a binding. 

Anyfin for my best lieutenant, she'd said in that slippery accent, and there was a threat in her words: if you don't agree, then you can join her.

That had not been an option. The coven was her home now: she had no one else left, only the golden palace with its empty halls and the political machinations of the coven that dwelled within it. She was its leader, but that was not a given- there were always others who thought they could usurp her, take her place. She had to fight to be the woman who was worthy of the Empress's eye.

She'd hated Jade, for making it so hard. It could be over so easily if Jade would just come quietly, and then things could be over- no more watching from afar as Jade wrought havoc all over the Isles and suffered in silence in that rundown house with the strange wooden bull that annoyed all of them. 

It was easy to hate Jade, and that was awful to think- but how could she not hate Jade, her sister who resisted every one of Jane's attempts at salvation? How could she not hate this woman who foiled every plan, who rejected every outstretched hand? She thrived while Jane fought to keep her head above water for her sister's sake.

It was easy to forget how much she loved her. It was easy to lose the reminders that all of this was for a cure as she watched her sister laughing in the front row seats of the arena, arm slung around the shoulder of the human boy who fidgeted in his seat and kept staring at Jane's most promising pupil. It was easy to forget that this had never been Jade's fault in the heat of a witch's duel, their first reunion in months marred by bitterness and the ozone smell of spells. It was easier to hate Jade than it was to love her.

Of course, she always remembered in the end- standing alone in that arena, staring at the destruction all around her and remembering the way Jade had limped a little as she left. She could not escape the knowledge that all of it was for Jade. Every act she took in the Empress's service she did for her sister. 

And she did so much in the Empress's service. She imprisoned the innocent and beat down the twinges of guilt in her chest; she watched them interrogated and did not say a word. She clenched her fists and shoved down the knowledge that this was wrong- for Jade, she told herself, and that was enough until now. It hurt- it all hurt- but it was enough, knowing it was for Jade. 

Until now.

"I'm not healing her," the Empress says, towering above Jane as she leans casually on her trident, and Jane is frozen, eyes wide.

"But you promised me," she breathes. She can't help it. Her eyes are welling with tears against her will, her hands are shaking against her staff. 

She was never the smart one, of the two of them. She'd known that from the start. But this- this is the worst reminder. Standing here in this hall with years of purpose wilting in her chest, and knowing she should have known better. There is ash in her mouth, and it tastes like the way Jade screamed when the Empress raised her trident and sent jolts of pink energy coursing through her spine. It tastes like  _ I told you so _ . 

The mark of binding on her wrist aches. For the first time it feels like a brand instead of a symbol of accomplishment. Jane stands alone in this room and holds on to her staff with everything she has, and tries not to fall apart.

Years of blood on these hands, she thinks. And all for nothing.

She doesn't cry. But it is a long, long time before she moves again.


End file.
